Good Enough
by Satan Abraham
Summary: There was absolutely nobody in the world who intrigued Maurice more than Roger did. [roger/maurice friendship] [oneshot]


There was absolutely nobody in the world that intrigued Maurice more than Roger.

When the other choirboys would laugh and talk and mess around – Maurice being one of those, he was just like the rest of them – Roger would just quietly sit. That was most all he would do, quietly sit, though there were a few brief flashes of emotion when he would do something cruel or otherwise strange. These cruel times didn't happen often, though most of the others avoided Roger.

Maurice tried not to. He wasn't quite sure what was going on with Roger, but he was sure that he wanted to be on Roger's good side when Roger finally did do something really bad.

Roger had always reminded him of the patients at his father's asylum, and perhaps that was why Maurice liked him so much. Perhaps he was just like his father in that regard – not in the 'bringing home a different woman every week' or 'being present for one choir concert out of the year, if that' – in the way that those types of people just interested him.

Ever since the plane had crashed, Roger had reminded him of that more and more. In the beginning, he'd been just like before. Quiet and unassuming and isolated. But as their time grew longer, as they started losing shoes and gaining hair and skin burning or tanning – both him and Roger tanned deep shades of brown and gold – Roger's true personality began to show.

It wasn't that Maurice was around Roger all the time, really, only when he was bored with Bill and Robert, who were both forgettable, blond, and delighted in all of the things most prepubescent boys seemed to delight in. The problem with this was that when he did want to find Roger, it was generally quite difficult.

After hours of searching – and narrowly escaping lecture by Jack Merridew – he found Roger, sitting crosslegged with his back against a tree, switching between poking a dying bird with a stick and applying pressure with a sharp rock.

"Hello Roger!" Maurice said cheerfully, sitting down with a thump next to him. Roger glanced at him, then continued with his poking. Maurice put an arm around Roger's shoulder and leaned in. "That's weird."

"Don't touch me."

"Don't torture small animals."

It was silent. Then Roger killed the bird and turned to Maurice. "What do you want?"

"Bill and Robert are boring," Maurice said. "And Jack's mad and Ralph tries to make me do stuff and all Simon does while conscious is fawn over Ralph. You're really the best option."

_"Really."_

"Yes, really," Maurice said. "Is it really that hard to believe that someone would like to spend time with you?"

"Yes."

"Okay, maybe it's a little weird," Maurice relented, scratching the back of his head. "But you're kind of funny sometimes. In a morbid sort of way."

"I don't mean to."

"That's what makes it funny! We're like a comedy act! I'm actually funny, and you're the kind of funny that makes people cross the street instead of passing by you," Maurice said. He paused, then continued. "Kind of like a black cat!"

"If I'm a black cat, then you're one of those big dogs that drools over people and that nobody actually likes," Roger said. He poked Maurice with the stick. Maurice confiscated the stick.

"I like those dogs."

"Nobody else does."

"You liar! We used to have one of those!"

"Yeah, and how often is your dad home?"

There was a pause. Maurice rearranged his arm around Roger's shoulders, because Roger wasn't trying to get him to move and that was a strange occurrence that he should take advantage of. "You have a point," he said. "But _you _have to like me! If you didn't, you'd either be leaving or I'd be dead!"

"And what would you do if I tried to leave?"

"Follow you," Maurice said without hesitation. Then he thought about it. "Oh."

"Yeah."

They sat there for a while longer. Maurice glanced at the dead bird and briefly wondered how long it would be before that bird was him. Then he shook that thought out of his head, positively horrified with himself. Roger wasn't going to _kill _him. He'd joked about it, sure, but Roger was just a boy! And English!

"I'm glad you're my friend, even if you don't actually like me," Maurice decided. Roger rolled his eyes.

Well, that was good enough for Maurice.

* * *

**These two I swear.**

**This was written for an anon on Tumblr who wanted a Rogice! This is more friendship than shippy, because I decided to go island time instead of a high school au or after the island thing, but either way, Roger and Maurice!**


End file.
